The Hawk's Winter
by okiedokie-lokie
Summary: OTP prompts that I'm going to use for WinterHawk. Main pairing: Barton and Barnes. Other pairings will be in the background, scattered. Not chronological, but post- Avengers and post- CA:TWS. I don't own anyone. Will have sexual themes, or will be implied.
1. Drunk Wedding Deals

A paper was shoved into a metal hand. Long unkept hair bobs up then flows down to look at the pretty cream colored envelope. "Steve, what is this shit?"

"Language, Bucky. I-It's an invitation," he started blushing, a light rose color painting his cheeks and ears.

"Screw language. And to what? It can't be anything prissy."

"B-Bucky! It's a special day, just open it," Bucky saw that Steve looked away out of embarrassment? _No. That can__'__t be right._ He shrugged and opened the damned envelope and instantly froze up when he took the invite out.

"A-a… Wedding? For who? When? With _who_?" Everything was too confusing at the moment, he either wanted to punch the nearest _something_ or knock out Steve. The same question circled his mind countless times: Who?

"D-don't hurt anyone Buck, but-t its… for… me. And 'Tasha."

"Natasha?! I thought she was with Mr. Bird Brain! When…, when did _that _happen?!" James over exaggerated his hand gestures to point at everything. The tower walls, the pretty flower vases, the carpeted floor. Anything.

"After finding you, well, we just kinda connected. And now we took the next step," Steve was as red as a tomato. Or maybe more.

"Did you tell Clint? Does he know? Oh god, _does he know_." The answer needed to come out quick, because he feels like he's going to tell him soon.

**A couple of hours later…**

A knock is heard outside of Clint's room. Quick and panicked. Clint yelled out a "Come in!" and Bucky Barnes stormed in, stepping on what seemed to be a week old pizza box. _Ew._

"Did you know?" Bucky asked frantically.

"Know what, babe?" Clint asked with a smirk on his face. _Piece of cake._

"That your red-headed pyscho girlfriend is getting married to MY best friend?"

"Um, correction. My _ex_-girlfriend is getting married. Why does it even matter to you?"

"Steve said I need to find a date."

Clint looked up from where he was staring at the static TV screen. "And you think you can charm me enough for a date?"

"Fuck no. I need you for the night. Anything to make them feel jealous, or I don't know, at least guilty for not saying anything sooner. I'll do anything after," Bucky pleaded.

The archer smiled wickedly, "Anything? Anything I want?"

The ex-assassin swallowed hard. "Promise."

**Fast Forward to the Wedding Reception…**

Two nicely dressed men walk in hand-in-hand to the reception hall. One, with his unruly hair pulled neatly back with gel and a couple of bobby pins. His suit was tailored to fit every curve and angle of his body. His bionic arm was polished nicely, and his hand was only showing; it glistened every time a light caught its eye. His bow tie was a dark red.

The other shorter man, suit nicely tailored and fit well too. His hair spiked nicely and formal, while his signature smirk was still plastered on his face. His hand was connected to the silver hand, walking in and finding their spot in one of the round tables. His bow tie was purple.

Stark, who looked over-priced as usual, approached them first. "Barnes and Barton. Barnes, did Cupid here shoot you with a trick arrow? And, Barton, are you pulling a Natasha? Going for old-time relics?"

"Can it, Stark. This is just and only for this. Go find Pepper or a girl to screw for the night," Barnes spit out. Clint chuckled and Bucky blushed. _That didn__'__t happen. _

"Whatever losers. If you want booze, you know where to find it," and with that, he stalks off to the nearest bar.

"So, what now?" Bucky asked. They found their chairs in the table. They know no one at their table, so that'll be fun. They mark their chairs with a small rose petal from the centerpiece. With that, they head to one of the _many _bars Tony had set up to grab a drink before they go congratulate the newly wed couple.

Walking towards the bar, Clint mumbled something, "Don't do anything stupid when your drunk."

Barnes mumbled back, "I'm not getting drunk."

"Your the girly one, I will get you drunk."

"Shit head."

They each grabbed vodka on the rocks, Bucky getting a second one when Clint wasn't looking. _I can take this. I__'__m no girl._

When Clint caught him, for the first time at the bar, he yanked his other arm away from the counter and dragged him to the couple. A couple of slurred words and something about teddy bear sex was exchanged. Bucky then dragged Clint to the bar to grab another couple shots of vodka and whiskey.

When Bucky had one too many drinks, he stumbled out to the dance floor, and started moving. Not dancing, but, somehow moving his whole body with the ragged beat of poor dj music. From the sidelines, Clint was laughing and watching this man unravel himself; _I think he just fell. _

Natasha walks up next to Clint, with white heels in one hand and a drink in another, and says, "Looks like your date is about to pass out soon; might as well take him back to his room." She throws her arm over his shoulder and laughs along with the archer.

Clint looks over at his friend. He had never really heard her laugh so care-free in the months of them dating, even less in weird drunk dancing situations. He looked back at Barnes, who was doing something on Steve, who looked pretty uncomfortable. "Hey, Nat, your husband is being humped by the residential drunk. Go save him." That earned a punch to the shoulder and she walked off. Clint decided to walk into the crowd to save his date from more embarrassment. _If that__'__s even possible._

Bucky, drunk and his hair a sweaty mess, looks at Clint and smiles. "Burrds ceernn darne."

"Sure they can, sure they can." _What the fuck did he just say. _Clint drapes his metal arm over his shoulder and puts his arm to rest on his waist for support. Then he starts the challenge to carry him out to the nearest elevator.

Once, getting out of the crowd and dragging Bucky from more booze, they finally made it to the elevator and told Jarvis for Clint's level. He dragged him out and to his room, opening the door and pushing everything away, so he can dump the body properly. When Bucky's body made a nice sound when it hit the floor, Clint took the fast time to fix up his couch so Bucky can sleep there for the night.

_It's time to wake the beast. _He tapped Bucky's shoulder once, and no response. He tapped his cheek, and still no response. He flicked his ear and pulled his hair, but still no response. The soldier was knocked out cold. Clint dragged his heavy ass over to the couch and figured out a way to dump his body onto it.

Once he did that, which now Barnes made a pained groan, he started to take of his bow tie and shoes, skillful hands untying each and every knot. He undid the top four buttons of his shirt so he can start cooling down.

When the Hawk finished with everything, he felt a tight grip on his wrist. He looked down to see the silver hand grip tightly at his wrist. It didn't seem to falter one bit. Then the hand yanked him down quickly to over the "sleeping" body. His face smashed into the laying man's face, lips touching slightly.

Clint pulled back up in shock. _I've gotta be dreaming. Or wasted. _"Dude, what the fuck."

And with slightly open but glassy eyes, James opens his eyes and said, "You said I had to do anything after this. What do you want me to do…?" He smiled, somewhat wickedly, as if he knew already.

Clint looked away for second deep in thought, then looked at him and shared the smile. "How 'bout you strip outta those clothes and wear me instead."

Bucky made a sound that sorta sounded like a laugh. "Deal."


	2. Small Loves

His hands lightly gripped at the other's neck. Lips trailed from his chest to his neck. The darkness of the room was nothing, the sweat glistened small lights. Clint's hands tightened against Bucky's neck, then loosened to grip at his arms to hold them up. Bucky moaned out in small gasps.

Clint's skin was streaked with sweat. It shined and wet Bucky's torso as he moved and kissed and touched. Bucky's metal arm was reflecting Clint's movements and kisses and touches. Bucky laid there with nothing much to move about for the grip Clint had on his hands was already constricting circulation on his right arm. His fingers moved within the grip, but never wanting to escape. He only bit his lips when he wanted Clint to kiss harder and bruise the thin line.

Bucky's cheeks were flushed. His heart pounded against his chest and was heard faintly. Clint growled low, the feral noise made Bucky wiggle against his grip.

He needed to _touch_. He needed to _feel_. He needed to tell Clint how much he loved this, how much he loved the small sucking noises vibrating against his collarbone, how much he loved the tight grip his rustic hand had on his own wrists. He loved hearing Clint's small growls of pleasure, his pop of the lips when he moves his mouth, the small creaks and squeaks the bed makes when they shift together. He loved the sweat between them, making a thin film between them that shines brightly in the darkness.

He just loved _him_.


	3. Hot Winters

The blizzard outside was unforgiving and tiresome. The snow and hail knocked on the windows and doors and left an eerie noise fill the small apartment. A laptop shined in the darkness, the screen a warm fireplace in the cold room.

Small echoes from the outside fill the room, and the not hot fireplace roars quietly over them. The couple moves on the couch, blankets upon blankets on top of them to keep warm, they shuffle closer and closer like penguins in a snow storm.

"Well, this blows," Clint states in a shivering notion.

"You can say that again. This is worse than the storms in Russia I think," Bucky moved his hands to Clint's and cupped them.

There was a pregnant pause. Clint was the first to crack the silence. "You want hot chocolate? I know a family recipe that warms even the coldest of people."

The assassin looks down at his chest. He looks back up to think then agrees. Clint shuffles forward, and with multiple groans of pain and lack of warmth, he was up and wasting no time to the small kitchen.

He took out two mugs, an Iron Man and Hulk kiddie mug, and got the fudge from the pantry. The milk was heated, the chocolate poured in, and then poured into the mugs. He then carries them both out with steady hands.

He walks back to the couch and hands a mug, the Iron Man one, to Bucky. He takes a couple of sips before welcoming the archer back to the couch.

"Toasty... But what makes it different?" Clint climbs back in, when once settled, takes a couple of sips himself on the hot chocolate. He yelps as he burns his tongue.

"Nothing."

"Then what's the secret ingredient?" Bucky said confused.

"I love you."


	4. Too much? Or Too Little?

A small kiss. A lingering touch. A nice inhale. A quaint exhale.

Clint loved everything about Barnes. From his uncontrolled hair, to his silver bionic arm, to how he holds his Stark Phone in his hands delicately as if he was holding a newborn baby. A question sparks in his mind: is it too much?

…

A messy kiss. A rough touch. A rigid inhale. A coughing exhale.

Bucky loved everything about Barton. From his disheveled hair, to his textured skin on his arms, to how he handles about everything like he's about to throw it with precise aim. A question sparks in his mind: is it too little?


	5. Fear of Losing You

"Are you afraid?" Bucky asked Clint with small glint of fear in his eyes. He couldn't help it. They're always out in crazy missions about to get killed. He might as well worry for his lover.

"Afraid of what?" Clint turned around to face. He saw the fear and worry in his face and couldn't help but relax at the sight. He chuckled slightly, then his smile faltered. "I worry everyday, baby, everyday I think this is the last time I'll ever see you. I'm afraid I'll never see your beautiful face, or those soft pouty lips of yours, or your god damn amazing body. But I can never live in fear. That's how I lose people. And I don't want to lose you."

Bucky smiled. He didn't need to worry, they were both amazing assassins.

Nothing to worry about. Ever.


	6. Lucky

Clint was bored. Not bored enough to get out of bed, but bored enough to wake up the sleeping mass next to him.

He poked Bucky. "Barnes… Wake up… I need to ask you something."

After a minute of hard jabs to his side, Bucky woke up grungy. "What do you want? I'm trying to sleep in on a perfect Saturday morning. What can be so important?"

Clint turned to face his lover. "Let's get a dog."

"What? Why?"

"Because I want one," Clint deadpanned.

…

After the usual morning wake-up and breakfast, the couple sat together watching the TV play some crappy local morning news. Bucky looked over to Clint's face and watched how his eyes slowly blinked in boredom from looking at the screen.

Bucky started, "So, you were serious? You know that's a huge responsibility."

Clint smirked and faced the ex-assassin. "'Huge responsibility', hah, we can handle it right? I mean, we've handled people's lives and didn't get them killed. I think we can handle a small mutt."

He considered it for a second. _He does have a point,_ Bucky thought to himself. "Ok. I see; what dog did you have in mind?"

Clint opened his mouth, then closed it; silent. "Let's get a golden retriever! He can retrieve my arrows then. And he can get you anything."

"We gotta train it first so it can do that, but it does sound cool. Ok, fine, you can get a dog."

…

Sunday morning, Bucky woke up, oblivious to the archer that was missing on the bed. He groggily got up and walked to the kitchen to make some coffee with a new machine, courtesy of Stark Industries.

When he got there, he saw a bright Clint with a pet carrier next to him. Bucky forgot yesterday's ordeal and was about to ask what was in there, when a huge gold mass of fur attacked Bucky and toppled him backwards to the floor, licking his face and hair. Clint burst out laughing watching the scene unfold.

"Babe! You, hah, should've seen, hah, yer face! Priceless!" Clint said between gasps of air.

Bucky tried getting the dog off of him and sat up on the floor, fixing his hair to somewhat decent. The dog sat up in front of him, tail wagging and tongue out, almost looking like it was smiling. "What'cha name it?"

"Lucky."

Bucky scoffs. "How original."


	7. Peaceful Rain

Bucky looked out the window of Clint's apartment. It was raining. The flowers on the balcony, Bucky argued with Clint to plant daisies, soaked up the rain drops. Each petal was dropping water from one petal, to the next, to the next.

Bucky's long hair was tied up in a messy short ponytail. His silver bionic arm was glistening against the cloudy outside. He leaned his head against the trembling window, and moved his head to the other shoulder every time it thundered.

He was relaxed. He was calm. He was at peace. He hasn't felt like this in a very long time.


End file.
